


Hickey in the Sandwich Islands

by paradiesvoegel



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Cornelius Hickey Is His Own Warning, Graphic Descriptions of Cannibalism, M/M, Rimming, Unreliable Narrator, identity theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiesvoegel/pseuds/paradiesvoegel
Summary: @terror_exe: hickey is horny and Fu[r]thest South is his dish
Relationships: Cornelius Hickey/OMCs
Kudos: 10
Collections: @terror_exe Flash Fest





	Hickey in the Sandwich Islands

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt](https://twitter.com/terror_exe/status/1297476671306686466)
> 
> ok this isn't "furthest" South but this idea wouldn't let me go

To Ka'aukai he tells the first story, the one where he is separated from the expedition and wanders starving in the Arctic Circle until he finds some of the native people. They feed him and tell him which way to go. Being very intelligent, he quickly learns how to converse in their tongue. He thanks them graciously before setting off overland, and is picked up by whalers- probably the lone survivor of that doomed Northwest campaign. He doesn't mention the men he ostensibly left to starve. 

It's a warm night but they're sitting around a crackling fire, cooking some fish and what he thinks are sweet potatoes or some kind of root vegetable. He sticks his hands in the sand every so often. It's still warm from the sun, and that always makes him smile.

Ka'aukai asks how Hickey ended up here, and he tells the truth- he took a job as a caulker's mate on a merchant ship. He has the experience, after all. He doesn't say that he took the job from the inside pocket of a recently deceased Englishman, clothes and body still warm from living, drinking ale, and stumbling down a cobbled alley with him. Still warm like the sand was from the sun. 

*

To Kekoa he tells the other story, the one where everybody dies and he sits alone with their corpses in a whaleboat- but then the ice opens up. He finds himself in that huge river they sought, and he drifts downstream- using his skills to re-rig the boat for river running when he has enough strength. There is no food left, but he could never eat another human being, though he knows other people in the South Seas may feel differently. He commits his companions' bodies to the river after a short but heartfelt prayer.

They're in Kekoa's dwelling after picking up work fixing a dock, and he can't see Hickey's grin as he speaks into Kekoa's warm shoulder (warm now not from the sun but Kekoa's heartbeat racing when Hickey took his cock all the way down his throat). He doesn't mention using the clothes of some of his companions to cook the others. He doesn't mention the way femurs become blunted like old wooden spoons at the end when you use them to mash and stir a pot. He doesn't mention how the carcass of a man with no face and meat falling from his bones only reminds him of chicken and makes him excited to go back to England and buy a roasted bird with the gold out of this man's pocket. 

Hickey would really like to keep lying here for a while, he doesn't have permanent sleeping arrangements of his own yet, but (half in English half in his own language) Kekoa announces he has to do something, so Hickey has to leave too. 

*

Ignacio got here on a merchant ship like Hickey, and he speaks a little English. He swapped his place on the ship with an Islander, captain's blessing and all. 

Hickey knows Ignacio likes men from the way he regards him- just a split-second too long, not shrinking from the glint in Hickey's eyes. He was a few inches taller than Hickey and strong, skin tanned and light-brown curls slightly bleached from spending so much time in the sun. 

They're working on a building, apparently for King Kamehameha the Third. It wasn't bad work. Hickey had done worse, had scraped sharp graves from frozen stone and climbed down into them to see what he could see. The sun was bright, but the site was shielded by some trees Hickey couldn't name. 

Ignacio pauses to take a drink of water, leaning on his shovel. Hickey watches the water and sweat run down his chest and through his white undershirt, the only shirt he wears. 

"Who's the King of Spain, then?" asks Hickey idly. 

"The king?" 

Hickey nods, smiling. Big green leaves shift on the breeze. 

"No king. Queen- Isabel." 

"Ah. England also has a queen. She's called Victoria."

"The people, they like the queen?" Ignacio asks, smiling a little too. 

Hickey shrugs as if to say _the people are ambivalent_ , or else to say _it's some big secret_ or else to say _I don't much care_. 

Ignacio nods and offers Hickey some of his water. 

Ignacio doesn't ask how Hickey ended up here, but Hickey tells him anyway.

In this one, he was never in the Arctic at all. He's transported for petty theft and escapes Van Diemen's Land, hunts game in the scorching bush, and sneaks on board a ship heading for the Islands. There's almost no way this could be true, but Ignacio doesn't know very much about the Antipodes, whereas Hickey listens to every scrap that comes back from that place, just in case. Hickey can't tell if he believes him, but he decides it's all the same.

Ignacio likes the scars on his arse, which Hickey's never even seen. Apparently they're pink but turning to white. Hickey has felt them with his hands on occasion, but Ignacio traces them with a fingertip, entranced by the raised texture. He doesn't ask what Hickey did. 

They're separated from the building site by about half a mile of leafy trees. The full moon spills silver on them as Hickey lies on a space of ground covered with huge smooth rubbery leaves and Ignacio puts his mouth where his eyes and hands had strayed back when they were pissing against some trees that afternoon.

His heavy curls fall against Hickey's skin softly. He eats him without roughness or hurry- he must truly enjoy it. His lips glide over Hickey's skin with spit. He presses his tongue to Hickey's entrance and licks him up and down and even his perineum and his balls. He gives his cheeks full bites that might bruise but no more. 

Hickey hasn't had time to be properly alone with someone long enough to fully undress in years, so while he tries to keep the upper hand, he is worn down by the situation and overwhelmed. He is tense and relaxed at the same time, body coiling in anticipation but unaware of his surroundings and he knows that. _Well I've fucking earned it_ he thinks as he almost drools on the ground. He later tells himself that he consciously decided to reach down and jack himself off.

In the moment he's crazy with it, finally unable to stop himself. 

It's so good. 

He almost chokes on sand trying to breathe through waves of pleasure so hard they're almost pain. 

Immediately, he gets up on all fours and tugs Ignacio down under him. He presses him open on come-soaked fingers while he licks up his neck and gasps into his hair.

It takes him a little while to get hard again. By the time he's ready, Ignacio is possibly angry with him, cursing him in Spanish under his breath and sticking one of his own fingers in alongside Hickey's. He bites Ignacio's lip and he stills. 

When Hickey pushes into him, Ignacio wriggles and claws like he can't get him deep enough, like his muscles are rebelling at holding back for so long. For a second Hickey thinks he'll buck him off. 

Hickey may be short, but he's strong enough. His healthy diet has given him the strength to work his way here to these islands after all, just as his mind and spirit have sustained him and propelled him to survive when others could not.

He waits for his new friend's pangs of impatience to die down. Then he takes him slowly and deeply, pausing for ragged breaths and to gaze unseeing into the pale dark trees. Ignacio holds one tree by the base with both hands so he doesn't get pushed up into it by the rocking of Hickey's hips. There isn't enough light to tell, but he must be flushed pink under his tan, and his hair darker where it's soaking up his sweat. He's almost silent, but his orgasm tears gasps from him and his legs squeeze hard at first before opening up, knees high in the air like he can't get them wide enough. 

As he lies panting, Hickey gets up on his knees and brings himself off again leisurely, onto Ignacio's stomach which is thoroughly dappled in pearl. 

Then he lies on his back and looks at the stars.

They are not the same as they are in the North.

Where will he go from here? He may stay a while. He may not. For many months he believed his path was to seek the creature on the ice and learn from it, to become a new being.

But when his men had tied him to a heavy rock and walked on, the creature had followed them and left Hickey all alone. 

How he'd called to it, alone on that tundra. How he'd almost prayed. 

"Eduard-" says Ignacio, and passes him a handful of something that feels like soft dry grass to clean himself. 

_Figure it out tomorrow_ he thinks, and drags his mouth lightly across the hot blood under Ignacio's throat. 

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for any historical errors. I did make an effort, but I'm not very familiar with Hawai'i.


End file.
